


Home Call

by exmachinarium



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmachinarium/pseuds/exmachinarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, for once, Jim isn't the main source of Sebastian's frustration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Call

Jim felt obliged to look up from his laptop screen only after the seventh outburst of profanities (mostly in English but here and there sprinkled with Farsi and, for some unknown reason, German) rolled across the spacious flat he shared with one Sebastian Moran. Without any signs of alarm or agitation he sent the last batch of e-mails that were designed to cause much trouble to a certain oil magnate somewhere in the Middle East, made his final (winning) move in virtual chess, and only then got up from the cosy armchair to inspect the source of his flatmate’s distress.

“You were saying, Tiger?”

The only thing he got in response was a grunt that could be loosely interpreted as: ‘Not in the mood, Jim’. Moriarty took this for an invitation and advanced on tip-toes, a big smile slowly spreading across his features.

“So. What do we have here?” he not-quite-asked in a singsong voice, looking over his sniper’s shoulder at the blue screen gleefully displayed by Sebastian’s apparently rebellious laptop – an image that Sebastian (judging by how he almost failed to resist smashing the device to bits) was fairly familiar with at this point.

Seeing that answering his boss and consequently getting humiliated was inevitable, Sebastian leaned back in his chair with a growl.

“It just keeps doing that, lousy piece of shit. Good thing I switched to saving on pen drive after the third time… But how the fuck am I supposed to work, huh?!” the last complaint was topped with Moran’s fist slamming hard against the desk, almost loud enough to make Jim jump in surprise. Almost.

“Remind me to find a nice kill for you later, Sebby, you clearly need to unwind. Now, move aside, there’s a good boy,” he all but kicked Sebastian out of the chair and made himself comfortable, ”and let Daddy fix this for you.”

He didn’t have to look at Sebastian to know that he paled considerably (so much, in fact, that the broad cloud of freckles across his nose began to show) and made a move to regain his position in front of the computer. Jim swatted the sniper's hand away promptly.

“Personal space, Tiger.”

“Wha… Oh, for… Jim, listen, there are tons of important data on that thing, all right? Important as in: ‘future targets data’… And book scripts but that’s not the point. So don’t try to ‘fix’ this junk by setting it on fire, shooting holes through the screen, disembowelling it, blowing it up, strapping to a rocket, making it try 'defying gravity', because you know the whole thing is only a metaphor, and really just…”

“There. You might want to adjust contrast, though, it sometimes goes wonky afterwards.” Jim rose from the chair gracefully, motioning Sebastian to sit and check for himself.

Cut off mid-sentence, the sniper just stared at his perfectly blue-screen-less desktop before mouthing a small ‘How on…’. 

“Oh, do you really think I could fool anyone I’m an IT expert without actually _being_ one? For shame, Sebastian.” Jim scoffed, feeling mildly offended at his subordinate’s lack of faith in his skills.

And without further delay (other than a discreet glance at Seb’s freckles, quite gorgeous this time of the year), Jim Moriarty - criminal mastermind and IT specialist _extraordinaire_ \- returned to matters far more interesting than a misbehaving machine.


End file.
